


Words Like Thunder

by insertnerdyjokehere



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertnerdyjokehere/pseuds/insertnerdyjokehere
Summary: "Just a bit of a Good person." The words echoed through Crowley’s head, resonating like a bell, drowning out all other sounds. "Good Good Good." The power in that word when it came from Aziraphale’s mouth was like thunder, a deep rumble that felt like the blessing from an angel.Crowley needed to hear him say it again. He would do anything, perform a thousand blessings and face the wrath of Lucifer and all his minions, just to know that there was someone in this universe that thought he was worth something.





	Words Like Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens has consumed my life. No, I will not apologize.
> 
> Special thanks to seterasilence for being my beta reader and giving me this prompt.

“To the world.” 

“To the _World_.”

Aziraphale had a knack for capitalizing spoken words and the weight of this one hung in the air. Here at the Ritz, after the world had decidedly not ended, there was something significant passing between them, taking root and blooming into a feeling terrifying in its intensity. Crowley knew what it was. _Acceptance. Vulnerability. Love._ Aziraphale had finally caught up to speed with him. _You go to fast for me_ a thought long forgotten. 

Aziraphale continued to chat about nothing in particular. Or maybe it was something in particular. Crowley had no idea because his mind was racing at the speed of light. 

_Just a bit of a Good person._ The words echoed through Crowley’s head, resonating like a bell, drowning out all other sounds. _Good Good Good._ The power in that word when it came from Aziraphale’s mouth was like thunder, a deep rumble that felt like the blessing from an angel. 

But Crowley was a demon of Hell. He couldn’t be good. It was against what he stood for. But it wasn’t what he _always_ stood for. He had been an angel once. An angel who hung out with the wrong people, but who never lost his faith. Some part buried deep inside of him yearned for the virtue that had been stripped from him when he Fell. But the universe had a balance, a give and take, Eve needed to eat the apple because humanity deserved to know right from wrong. He wouldn’t go back to being an angel if given the chance. But hearing Aziraphale call him good… it made him crave that comfort that was once given so freely to him.

Crowley needed to hear him say it again. He would do anything, perform a thousand blessings and face the wrath of Lucifer and all his minions, just to know that there was someone in this universe that thought he was worth something. 

“Crowley? Are you alright?”

He jumped as he realized he had zoned out. Not hearing the words. “Sorry ah- just trying to wrap my head around it all you know? _The world.”_ His voice sounded shakier than he would have liked. If Aziraphale noticed, he pretended not to and took a slow sip from his glass, using the action as a way to bid his time before he answered. 

“Yes, I suppose it is a lot to take in,” he said carefully. 

Crowley was thankful for the cover of his sunglasses, allowing him to feel like there was still some illusion of control. His voice, on the other hand, continued to become more fractured as he went on, “I don’t know what we’re ssssupposed to do now. I- I feel like I’m not in control. Like I’m not sitting right in my own sssskin.” 

“Perhaps when we switched back-” 

“No, that’s not it. There’s this ache in me. Did I- we do the right thing?”

This time Aziraphale did not pretend to not notice the shiver that ran through Crowley. And there it was again. That thing passing between them. Unspoken, as it had been said in so many other ways before. _We’re on our side. Our side._

“I’d like to think so.”

Crowley’s throat tightened and a quiet whine slipped out, impossible for anyone to hear over the din of the restaurant. Aziraphale heard it. 

He lifted a napkin to his face and wiped away imaginary crumbs from his mouth. “Perhaps it’s best we get the check.” Knowing that it had already been miraculously paid. 

Crowley shot to his feet and gulped down the rest of his champagne. “Yes, lets.” Walking away before Aziraphale even stood. 

They quickly made their way back to the car, not speaking another word to each other. The Bentley played the Velvet Underground’s _“_ Crazy Little Thing Called Love _”_ the entire way back to Aziraphale’s bookshop. There was a parking spot that happened to be open right in front of the shop. Crowley pulled in and sat there, knuckles white from throttling the steering wheel, energy focused entirely on not allowing his cheeks to flush. Demons didn’t _flush_ , and he wasn’t going to start now. 

“That song’s a lot longer than I remembered,” Aziraphale commented innocently as he got out of the car, oblivious to the fact that the radio had played _“_ Crazy Little Thing Called Love _”_ six times, each one blending seamlessly into the next. 

Crowley loosened his death grip and made a noncommittal noise. Once the passenger side door closed, he leveled the Bentley’s radio with a death glare that would have wilted even the most strong willed of ferns. “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” finally faded out and the radio was silent for a moment before cracking back to life “ _Tonight I’m gonna have myself a real good time I-”_ Crowley fumed and turned the car off, practically throwing himself out of the vehicle. He stood there for a moment, cheeks nearing the vicinity of pink, wondering the merits of slamming the door.

“Are you coming in, my dear?” Aziraphale stood by the open doors to the shop. He gestured inside with a little bow, pleasant smile on his face. 

With one last glare at the Bentley, Crowley closed the car door with more force than necessary and walked past Aziraphale, strides carefully confident, shoulders perfectly slouched right where they needed to be. Still trying so hard to keep himself together, but it had been 6,000 years of this charade and he was getting tired.

The door clicked shut and a funny feeling churned in Crowley’s stomach seeing Aziraphale back in the shop for the first time. The not-burnt-down-to-the-ground shop. Aziraphale ran a hand over a large tome and examined the dust that came away with his finger before brushing it off on his pants. 

He turned to Crowley with a vaguely somber look. “Just as I left it. Not even a speck of dust out of place. Although, those are new.” He glanced suspiciously at the set of books Adam had seen fit to will into existence, but seemed otherwise content with the state of everything. 

Crowley made another noncommittal noise, not knowing what else to do, not knowing what he was supposed to do. He had been to this shop hundreds of times before, knew the inventory almost as well as Aziraphale himself but this felt different. There was a static in the air that made the space between them crackle with unspoken words. Words that he didn’t know if he could put a voice to. Things that he wanted that he didn’t know how to ask for or even if he was _allowed_ to want them.

Aziraphale continued to look around, there was an air of feigned casualness that hung about him, allowing Crowley room to breathe. At a moments notice they could stop whatever it was that was building between them and go back to the way things had been, but the choice was Crowley’s to make. Aziraphale had already made his moments before when “ _To the World_ ” had left his lips, maybe minutes before, maybe decades. Aziraphale nodded his head towards the back room. “Would you like a drink? I have a bottle of-”

“No.”

Aziraphale was taken aback but quickly recovered, eyes shifting from shock to understanding. He waited, but Crowley didn’t go on, he merely stood amongst the dusty shelves, staring at his feet, sunglasses not doing much to hide the lost look on his face. His brows were furrowed and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. 

Aziraphale was patient by nature, content to wait no matter how long it took. This moment had been 6,000 years in the making and he would wait another 6,000 if that’s what it took. He waited and tried to pour all the unsaid words into a single look. _Our side, Our side, Our side._

Crowley continued to stand there, feeling the heavy weight of Aziraphale’s gaze. Keeping himself together with a linchpin made of glass. He looked at Aziraphale with desperation, needing a final push. 

Aziraphale applied just the tiniest bit of pressure. “What do you want Crowley?” 

The linchpin began to fracture. “Say it again.” The words rushed out as if a dam had burst, desperation painting every syllable. “ _Please_.” Crowley couldn’t bring himself to be more specific but he didn’t need to. 

Aziraphale took several large strides towards Crowely, reaching his hands up to hold Crowley's face as he closed the distance between them in an instant and pulled him into a kiss. It was hungry and demanding yet so very, very careful. Crowley surged to meet him, grabbing Aziraphale’s wrists to steady himself as they moved their lips together, unwilling to break the moment that had taken them so long to get to. 

The kiss said many things but none of them out loud. Crowley broke them apart with a distressed whine. “My angel. Please. I need- I need to _hear_ you-” His throat stopped working and he looked helplessly at him.

“Oh, my dearest love, you are the only thing in this world worth a damn to me, so good. So Good.” Aziraphale caressed his cheek and the simple touch tore a groan from Crowley. He turned away to drop his forehead against the angel’s shoulder, hands grabbing the lapels of his jacket. 

“M’not good,” he muttered desperately, at war with himself and his desires. 

“You most certainly are, although I know you hate to admit it.” His hand rested on the back of Crowley’s neck, grounding him before his other hand found its way under Crowley’s chin, lifting him up so they were face to face. “You know, this would be a lot easier if I could look you in the eyes. Would you let me take your glasses off, my darling?”

Crowley bit his lip but gave a quick nod. He closed his eyes as he felt Azriaphale pull his glasses off, removing his shield that he constantly relied on, leaving him exposed with nothing to hide behind. Crowley didn’t necessarily hate his eyes but they were nothing to be proud of. It was a symbol of his damnation. The part of him that was forever condemned. Another moment passed before Crowley opened his eyes and for a moment he was blinded by the light of Aziraphale’s waiting gaze. 

Aziraphale rewarded him with a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “There you are.” Another kiss on the other side. “So good. Thank you. Oh my love, thank you for being so good.” Crowley drew in a sharp breath while Aziraphale let out a fond sigh, their breaths mixing in the space between them. Crowley’s hands tightened on Aziraphale’s coat, impatient but not knowing the best way to proceed.

Aziraphale on the other hand, knew what to do. Knew what Crowly needed, what they both needed. He placed another kiss on Crowley’s lips.

“Will you be good for me, darling?” It was said just above a whisper, but there was a heat to his words that burned Crowley from the inside out. A fire that started low in Crowley’s stomach and settled in his throat. He nodded weakly. 

Aziraphale reached up to Crowley’s hands that were still clutching his coat. He held them there for a moment. 

“Well then. Let’s take this upstairs shall we?”

He pulled Crowley towards the stairs and with a distant thought, Crowley realized he had never actually _been_ upstairs. At the top there was a small hallway that had a couple doors but Aziraphale lead him to the one at the back, his touch never leaving Crowley.

The door opened and Crowley blinked owlishly around. The bedroom was somehow more in tune to Aziraphale than the bookshop was. It was more cluttered but softer around the edges as well. There were a couple bookshelves stacked to the brim, absolutely no rhyme or reason to the organizational system. There was a plush rug in the center of the room and the bed had a set of sheets that were carefully well worn, a few rumpled sweaters laying on it. Dirty plates and empty mugs were littered over every piece of furniture, some even making their way onto the floor. In the corner there was a small desk that had papers spread all over it. Newspapers from decades ago, half finished cross words, Crowley’s eyes focused on a playbill for _Hamlet_ that looked well over a hundred years old, well over four hundred in fact, not because it looked weathered and torn like a piece of paper that age should look but because Crowley had been there around the time it was printed. 

There was an awkward cough and he turned to see Aziraphale looking embarrassed as he fretted over the room. “Ah- terribly sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company.” There was a snap and the room was suddenly more or less presentable. Aziraphale sheepishly looked around the room before giving a content nod. The playbill was still on the desk, Crowley noted to himself.

There was suddenly a warm hand against his neck. “Crowley?” For the first time tonight Aziraphale looked unsure of himself.

“Yes, angel?” 

“Do you trust me? Do you trust me to give you what you need?” There was a pleading in his eyes. Not wanting to break whatever it was that they had. Not knowing what would happen if he suddenly crossed a line. 

Anger suddenly flared in Crowely. “What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I-” He was cut off as Aziraphale closed the gap between them, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. Crowley’s fury died immediately, dissolving like cotton candy in water.

“Just making sure, my dear. Communication is key with these kinds of things.” Feeling reassured, he stepped away and walked to his bedside, there was a bit of rummaging before Aziraphale found what he was looking for. 

“What… kind of things.”

He turned back to Crowley and in his hands was a small black case. He opened it and there were six metal rods of varying diameters with a ball of metal at the top. He held the thinnest one up, thin as the vein of a feather, and turned it in the dim light of the bedroom. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asked, already knowing the answer by the spark in Crowley’s eyes. 

“Yes.” Crowley felt something in his stomach drop in a not unpleasant way as he felt himself become aroused. Demons weren’t prudes by any means and apparently neither were angels, well, at least not this angel, in particular. Crowley had experimented with sex in the past, found it pleasurable for the most part. Humans were creative buggers and he had received several commendations for some of their more inventive ideas. 

Aziraphale said some more words but they didn’t reach Crowley’s ears. He was too transfixed by the piece of metal, mind running through thoughts faster than he could keep up with. He could hear him speaking but couldn’t hear the words as if he were underwater.

“Crowley?” Crowley mind broke through back to the surface at the sound of worry in Aziraphale’s voice. Several minutes had passed and Crowley had not said a thing. “My dear, if this is too much or not what you want, please just tell me.” He drifted off and began to put the sound back in the case. 

This broke Crowley out of his daze and this time he was the one to close the gap between them. He pushed their lips together, almost knocking the case out of Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Tell me- Tell me what to do. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

“Of that I have no doubt.” He took a step back from Crowley and looked him up and down, smile turning into something more wicked. “Would you be a dear and take off your clothes for me? Could you do that for me, love?”

Crowley raised a shaking hand to snap his fingers, intending to miracle them off but Aziraphale reached up and stroked his cheek, the gesture stopping him in his tracks. 

“Now, that wouldn’t be fair would it. I want to _see_ you take them off for me.” His eyes flicked up and down and Crowley felt himself flush. He wanted to be good. Had made a promise to his angel.

He impatiently yanked off his scarf and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing them both to the ground. His shirt went in a similar fashion. He kicked off his shoes and ungracefully pulled off his socks, but as his hands went to his belt he paused. Looking up, he met Aziraphale’s eyes. They were fire, burning hotter than a sun. Still the cool blue they always were, but something simmered under the surface. Crowley took a step towards him as if pulled in by gravity. He unfastened his slacks and slid them down like a snake shedding its skin, taking his underwear with them and hissing as his cock sprang free.

He stood there, naked and shivering from the heat of Aziraphale’s gaze. Crowley waved a hand over his body, presenting himself. Making an effort. 

Aziraphale reached up and with a delicate touch, trailed his fingers down Crowley’s chest stopping just below his navel, “So good to me. So beautiful. Helen of Troy would be envious.” 

Crowley let out a high pitched whine and trembled all over. The words feeling like sunlight on his naked body. He basked himself it in. Soaked in as much as he could, practically preening. 

Aziraphale turned to the bed and propped some pillows against the headboard. “Would you lie down for me? Against the pillows, my dear.”

Crowley did as he was told, leaning against the pillows so he was slightly propped up, just enough to not strain his neck to see himself. There was a snap and suddenly Azraphale was kneeling on the bed, missing his jacket, waistcoat, and bow tie. A few of the top buttons of his shirt were undone, giving just a tease of skin below his neck. 

Crowley closed his eyes and dropped his back with a groan. “That’sss not fair.” 

“No one said anything about _me_ being good,” he pointed out. 

“You- AH!” Suddenly Aziraphale had his hand wrapped around Crowley’s cock. He gave it a shallow stroke. 

"You're doing so well, my dear. My beautiful boy.” He gave another stroke and removed his hand. “Are you ready? Will you open up for me, love? Of course you will because you're my good wonderful darling." Crowley made a desperate sound that could have been considered a yes. The desperate nodding left no room for consideration.

Aziraphale climbed onto the bed and placed a knee on either side of Crowley, resting his weight behind him, ass barely resting against Crowley’s knees. In his hands he held the sound and a bottle of lubricant. His hair seemed more disheveled than usual, and for a brief moment, the light shifted behind his head, illuminating his halo.

He learned over and brought their lips together but only for a moment. Crowley stroked his cheek with the back of his hand as he leaned back up. His angel smiled down at him and he felt the light of heaven being cast upon him, only heaven had never been so warm and kind, that much he could remember. This was true devotion and it was burning Crowley, turning him into a blithering mess. 

“Angel…”

“I know, my love.” 

Aziraphale slicked up the sound and the tip of Crowley’s cock. A whine escaped the back of Crowley’s throat, desperate to be heard despite Crowley’s resistance.

There was pressure and the sound slipped in. Crowley cried out and his hips stuttered, but Aziraphale placed his free hand against his stomach, holding him in place. 

“Shh, I know. I know it’s so much isn’t it, dear? You’re doing so well. So Good.” With the word he twisted the sound and it sunk deeper. Crowley tried to hold back a moan but it came out anyway, filling the air of the bedroom.

He twisted the sound a hair and it sunk deeper and deeper until it was all the way in. 

Crowley gasped for breath. He felt full, but also Full, and it was hard for him to wrap his brain around the difference. 

Aziraphale leaned forward again, one hand loosely wrapped around Crowley’s cock. He kissed the hollow of Crowley’s throat and continued to mumble words of adoration, each one burning like a brand on Crowley’s soul. It made him want to weep and he choked back a dry sob. When he Fell every tear in his body burned with him and he had not been able to cry since. This was the first time he could remember wishing he could, wishing he could have some form of release, anything to ease the pressure building at his groin. He keened as he felt Aziraphale pull the sound up again, almost all the way out but not quite.

"So good, you're so good for me opening up, taking what I need you to take, letting me make you mine. How much further can you go, how much longer can you last?" Each word sent shocks through Crowley’s body, all pulsing through the rod inside him as it slowly eased back into him.

“No. I’m not good. M’a demon. Irredeemable,” he insisted weakly.

"Not to me. You don't need redemption, darling. Not God Herself could convince me of a flaw in you. To me you are as perfect as the stars in the sky. The stars that you yourself created. Have I told you how much I love them?"

"Angel, please," Crowley keened as Aziraphale gave the barest twist to the sound as it sank further in until finally buried to the hilt. "I need- I- I can't!"

Aziraphale looked proudly over the mess he had made of Crowley. He raised the sound a fraction of an inch and let it sink back down again. Crowley howled. "Do you believe me, my dearest? I need you to admit how good you are, how deserving of love you are. I already believe it with my entire being and I will do _whatever_ it takes to convince you. Now, tell me how good you are." 

Crowley hissed at him "No, I'm wretched. Unforgivable. Damn-" he choked as Aziraphale squeezed his cock and tutted at him.

"My sweet boy. That will get you nowhere." Aziraphale slowly pulled the sound until it was half an inch in. He held it there for a moment, giving it the barest of twists, before letting it sink back down. 

Crowley gritted his teeth as he held back a yell and threw his head back. Pleasure continued to build in him, pushing into the realm of pain with its intensity. He wished for a single tear. Anything. _Anything_ for some form of relief from the pressure of his soul pushing at the seams of his body. But he couldn't do what the angel was asking of him. He was a demon. There was no good in him. 

Aziraphale kissed his sternum, pouring all of his love and affection into the single action. Crowley sucked in a sharp breath. Another kiss, this time lower, Aziraphale continued trailing down his stomach until he hovered over Crowley's cock. Breath ghosting over they hyper sensitive skin there. "Look at me, my dear. Please, that’s all I ask of you." 

He waited there for an eternity, watching as Crowley squirmed with desperation. Until Crowley lifted his head enough look up, eyes wet with tears that couldn't be shed. 

Aziraphale locked eyes with him, a look of absolute devotion etched across his face. “You're _good_." He placed a kiss on the tip of Crowley's cock, lips resting against the top of the sound.

Crowley’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Heat shot down his cock and bloomed into a supernova. It was impossible and yet by some cruel miracle he still couldn’t come. A divine intervention that Crowley knew was Aziraphale’s doing. 

“You absolute bastard!” His hips bucked, but Aziraphale reached an arm across his stomach and held him down, strong and ungiving, patient and ineffable. “I’m- I’m _good_ . Alright, I said it! Damn and bless it all angel, I’m _Good,”_ Crowley babbled. “Please, my angel. I’ll be good, anything for you, anything for you forever and all eternity but please- _”_ His breath hitched as he felt the sound begin to slide out of him. Using the last of his strength, he refocused his eyes on Aziraphale, teeth locked around the metal tip of the sound as he drew it out, a feral look in his eyes that somehow still managed to be gentle. The tension was cresting and Crowley was on a razors edge, terrified of what would happen when he fell to the other side. 

The sound slipped free. 

It was hell fire and holy water in one. Hot to the point where he felt sharp like the bite of ice. White like metal left in a forge. Pleasure a human wouldn’t be able to fathom let alone survive. It became all he knew, and all he was. Finally set free his body convulsed with his long overdue release, shooting out of him and onto his stomach. He collapsed and panted as his world slowly refocused on the only thing in the world that mattered, feeling Aziraphale’s soft hands grounding him. 

There was a shuffle as Aziraphale climbed back up to Crowley, placing chaste kisses as he went. He wrapped an arm around Crowley and carefully lifted him, pressing him against his chest as he slid a suddenly corporeal wing under him and enveloped him. He welcomed the cool touch of feathers against his heated skin. 

Crowley blearily looked at Aziraphale, eyes still not able to focus entirely. “D’I do Good?” One arm slipped around the angel’s waist and his fingers played with the feathers there.

Aziraphale kissed his forehead and thumbed away a bead of sweat that had trickled to the corner of his eye. “Yes, my dear. You did Good.”

Crowley sighed and began to doze, finally believing what the angel said. 


End file.
